Excerpt from In my Garden of Mutants

Volha Hapeyeva

In my Garden
of Mutants

Translated and introduced by
Annie Rutherford

2021

Published by Arc Publications,
Nanholme Mill, Shaw Wood Road

Todmorden OL14 6DA, UK
www.arcpublications.co.uk

Copyright in the poems © Volha Hapeyeva, 2021
Translation copyright © Annie Rutherford, 2021
Copyright in the present edition © Arc Publications 2021

978 1906570 96 5

Design by Tony Ward
Printed by ImprintDigital.com, Upton Pyne, Exeter, Devon

Cover image:
Painting by Necla Rüzgar, © 2015 ‘InnerFauna I’ (oil and
acrylic on canvas, 130 x 200 cm). The publishers are grateful to
the artist and to İstanbul Modern Art Museum Collection for

the kind provision of the cover image.

Acknowledgements
‘he bought her a dress’ was first published in Tint Journal;
‘drink, my girl, drink’ was first published in Hopscotch; ‘the
heart regenerates’ was first published in Modern Poetry in
Translation; ‘determining the size’, ‘today I have to write
a poem’ and ‘where snow falls today’ first appeared with

Versopolis.

This book is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and
to provision of relevant collective licensing agreements, no
reproduction of any part of this book may take place without

the written permission of Arc Publications.

This book has been selected to receive financial assistance from
English PEN’s ‘PEN Translates’ programme, supported by Arts
Council England. PEN exists to promote literature and our
understanding of it, to uphold writers’ freedoms around the world,
to campaign against the persecution and imprisonment of writers
for stating their views, and to promote the friendly co-operation of
writers and the free exchange of ideas. www.englishpen.org

Contents

Introduction / 5

6 / ‘ніколі не думала што…’ • ‘I never thought it this hard…’ / 7
8 / ‘пі дзетанька пі…’ • ‘drink, my girl, drink…’ / 9

12 / ‘павольней за іншыя органы…’ • ‘the heart regenerates…’ / 13
14 / ‘прымусовае шчасце…’ • ‘mandatory happiness…’ / 15
16 / ‘цяперашні час…’ • ‘the present tense…’ / 17
18 / ‘жыву ў гатэлі…’ • ‘I’m staying in a hotel…’ / 19
20 / amores perros • amores perros / 21
22 / ‘яна была маёй самай • ‘she was my very first
першай сяброўкай…’ friend…’ / 23

26 / трэба напісаць новы верш • ‘today I must write a
сёння…’ new poem…’ / 27

28 / ‘ён набыў ёй сукенку…’ • ‘he bought her a dress…’ / 29
30 / 13 кастрычніка • 13 October / 31
34 / ‘флёкс…’ • ‘phlox…’ / 35

38 / ‘там дзе сёння выпадзе снег…’ • ‘where snow falls today…’ / 39
40 / ‘вызначыцца з памерам…’ ‘determining the size…’ / 41
42 / ‘пяць кветак…’ • ‘five flowers…’ / 43
44 / ‘і сніла яна слова…’ • ‘and she dreamt about
• the word…’ / 45

Biographical Notes / 47



Introduction

Until August 2020, it would have been fair to presume
that many British readers weren’t even aware of the existence
of Belarus. The media rarely reported on this insular police
state on the far side of Europe. Very few contemporary
Belarusian works are available in English, and those which
have been translated are mostly by Russian-language
authors. The choice to write in Belarusian in this two-
language state is very much a political one, and UNESCO
classifies the Belarusian language as vulnerable.

But Belarusian is a living and a literary language. The
peaceful protests which erupted in the wake of rigged
elections in August, and which have kept up their momentum
despite brutal repression, have shown the world a culture
dating back to the sixth century which is creative, resilient,
hopeful. In this context, it is both necessary and humbling to
be publishing authors like Volha Hapeyeva.

Volha is one of the leading poets on the Belarusian scene.
Her off-kilter yet sensitive lyricism interweaves rigorous
research with emotional immediacy and an often surreal
vision. The arc of poems in this collection delves into themes
of the gendered body, political injustices (be these subtle or
acute) and the fallacies of memory, as well as drawing on
Volha’s background as a linguist. Amongst them, Volha’s
elliptical responses to the war in Ukraine offer a much closer
perspective of this crisis at the edge of Europe than we often
have the chance to encounter, presenting a vital reminder of
a conflict which continues to devastate lives.

Above all though, In My Garden of Mutants offers poems to
lose yourself in, poems – sometimes – to laugh with, poems
which unsettle worlds and words and which stare back at us
with large eyes.

Annie Rutherford

5



ніколі не думала што так цяжка насіць сукенку
спадніцу абцасы каралі
і не ператварыцца ў калядную елку
ці ператварыцца і не звяртаць увагі
гэта сапраўды цяжка
быць упісанай у цела
якое магчыма і не хацела
каб я ў яго была ўпісана
і менавіта так апранала
як апранаю

можа яно хацела стаць больш бачным для навакольных
і пэўна на мае кашулі вольнага крою
злуецца
а я злуюся ў адказ
забываючыся што кожная з нас
ці кожны
быў голым народжаны
ці была…

у калідоры перад люстэркам
узгадваю вачыма ўсё што з намі было
і яно
глядзіць на мяне панура
бо сёння зноў не тое я апранула

6



I never thought it this hard to wear a dress
skirt heels necklace
without transforming into a tree at Christmas
or to transform and not notice
it’s so hard
being inscribed in a body
which maybe didn’t even want
to have me inscribed in it
and to be dressed just the way
that it is

maybe it wanted to be seen more by those around me
and so my baggy shirts
enrage it
while I’m enraged by it in return
forgetting that every woman among us
and every man
was born naked

before the mirror in the hallway
I use my eyes to remember everything we’ve been through
and it looks at me
sullenly
for today, once again
I am wearing something that doesn’t quite fit

7



пі дзетанька пі

піжма
шалфей
канюшына
лаўровае лісце
багун

пі дзетанька пі

малако з ёдам
касторку з апельсінавым сокам
не чуеш?
аглухла ад хіны?
не ты першая не ты апошняя

дзякуй, мая харошая, за адказ на незададзенае пытанне
выпрабаванне горшае за раненне
магло скалечыць жыццё
заняла грошай, рэчаў узяла што пакаштоўней
і паехала шукаць добрага дзядзю ці цёцю

пі дзетанька пі

не падумайце што вар’ятка проста выбару ў мяне няма
доктар у горадзе
ехаць туды няма грошай і малога няма з кім пакінуць
муж на працы заўсёды
і яшчэ крэдыты

пі дзетанька пі

асудзіць можа кожны
калі ж сама на мяжы стаіш
разумееш іншых

8



drink, my girl, drink

cow bitter
sage
clover
bay leaf
wild rosemary

drink, my girl, drink

milk and iodine
castor oil and orange juice
can’t you hear?
did the quinine make you deaf?
you’re not the first, won’t be the last

thank you, dearest, for answering the unasked question
being tested like this is worse than being injured
it could mutilate my life
I borrowed money, took some jewellery
and went to look for a friendly Jane to help

drink, my girl, drink

don’t think I’m crazy, I had no choice
the doctor’s in the town
there’s no money to go and no one to stay with the little one
my husband’s always working
and then there’s the loans

drink, my girl, drink

anyone can judge
but when you’re standing on the edge yourself
you understand

9

я не хацела але ўсе былі супраць
думала што палюблю
але не – кожны дзень слёзы

пі дзетанька пі

можаш як і сто год таму
скочыць са стала, бінтавацца як найтужэй
з’есці пораху ці тоўчанага бурштыну
або фосфару,
каб потым доктар напісаў
што з вядомых яму 13 выпадкаў
усе 13 памерлі

засаджвай сябе цыбуляй
вырошчвай унутры фікусы і філадэндраны
торкай у сябе конскі волас, галіны, жалезныя стрыжні
памятаеш як у газавай камеры – раз і ўсё выйшла
так і ў ванне дзе нясцерпна сядзець ад кіпеню

але яна сядзіць
бо
сорам і вусціш заўсёды побач
угаворваюць патрываць
прапаноўваюць тысячы варыянтаў
з якіх 999 несумяшчальны з жыццём
але сумяшчальныя з годнасцю
выдуманай
тымі самымі сорамам і вусцішам

102

I didn’t want it but they wouldn’t let me do it
I thought I’d learn to love it
but no: every day there are tears

drink, my girl, drink

or like a hundred years ago you could
jump from the table, bind your stomach as tightly as possible
eat gunpowder or crushed amber or phosphorus
so that later a doctor will write
that of the 13 cases he knew
all 13 died

plant yourself with onions

grow fig trees or philodendrons inside

poke yourself with horsehair, branches, iron rods

do you remember what happened in the gas chambers –

how it all came out at once

it’s like this in the bathtub where the boiling water makes it

unbearable to sit

but still she sits
because
shame and despair are always close by
talk her into patience
suggest a thousand options
999 of which are incompatible with life
though compatible with the honour
invented by
this shame, this despair

131